Conflict of Legends
by enigma939
Summary: James Bond, 007, is sent to kill rogue CIA operative Jason Bourne: for all the wrong reasons. A Bond/Bourne crossover. Post-QOS, Post-Ultimatum
1. Prologue: The Deal

**Conflict of Legends**

**A/N: **This is a James Bond/Jason Bourne crossover fic, something I've always wanted to write. It features the Matt Damon version of Bourne and the Daniel Craig version of Bond. I've taken a few minor liberties here and there with regards to chronology and continuity.

Jason Bourne is the property of Universal Studios and James Bond is the property of Robert Ludlum.

**Prologue: The Deal**

Marian Craig, better known within Intelligence circles by the initial 'M' stepped out of her armour-plated, bullet-proof and bomb-proof limousine onto the cold snow-filled streets of Paris. She slowly cautiously made her way to the entrance of the Red Dragon restaurant, an expensive Chinese restaurant situated right in the middle of the City of Light. Though she could sense the comforting presence of her two bodyguards who were shadowing her several feet behind, she still perceived an element of insecurity in herself. Which wasn't surprising really. After all, not more than four months ago, her own bodyguard of eight years had tried to kill her. She was on the hit-list of every terrorist organization in the world which knew of her existence (and indeed, there _were _quite a few), including the unknown faceless men and women behind the global conspiracy known as Quantum. No, M could rarely, if ever, feel truly safe. And yet this journey, troublesome though it was, was also necessary.

A meeting with the Director of the CIA was not something she particularly looked forward to. After all, Ezra Krammer had refused _her _a meeting when the Agency had aligned itself with the 'interests' of Dominic Greene in Bolivia, and had issued a kill order against her agent, James Bond. Of course, the corrupt activities of Gregg Beam, former CIA station chief in South America had been exposed, and Bond had survived, even taking down an entire CIA black ops unit (a fact M secretly was proud of), but Krammer had still remained largely aloof from the whole incident, attempting to downplay the involvement of the Agency, and more importantly, himself. And yet M had her private moments of revenge against the man when she considered the amount of embarrassment Krammer had had to face in recent months; not just from the Bolivia incident, but also from the Blackbriar scandal, which was at present raging in Washington. The exposure of the CIA's top-secret officially unsanctioned assassination program certainly dealt a severe blow to the global image of the CIA's top brass. Though M considered the CIA to be an ally of MI6, possibly its closest, and had tremendous respect for its efficiency as an organization, she more often than not disagreed with the ideology and methods of its leaders. And the revelation that the CIA was involved in subversive activities on British soil which had resulted in the death of a British citizen certainly did give her some leverage over its top brass. Leverage she would try to make the most of. Which was why she had agreed to fly down to Paris, for a meeting with the CIA Director in a neutral location; to hear him out, and then make her own demands. The battlefield was a diplomatic one, she thought wryly, smiling to herself, but even the world of diplomacy could be a harsh place, as she'd learnt during the Cold War.

* * *

Ezra Krammer was seated at a table on the south-west corner of the restaurant, awaiting his meeting with Marian Craig, the enigmatic 'M', chief of MI6. He had met her once only briefly years ago, at an Embassy dinner in London, though he had since conversed with her on the phone many times. It occurred to him now, as he sat here waiting for her, that he was among the few individuals in the world who was even aware of her true identity. Once upon a time, he would have regarded it as an indicator to the extent of his power and influence; but not now. Recent events had, on the contrary, made him feel almost powerful and helpless. Powerless against the US Congressional Oversight Committees, powerless against the scrutinizing glare of the media, powerless to an extent, even against his counterparts in America's allies, including M.

But there was a way it could be fixed. And Ezra Krammer, ever the pragmatist, knew exactly how it could be done. But for that he needed M's help. He needed the resources of MI6. Not because he lacked any of his own, but because his own resources could not be used in this case. It would attract too much attention, and too much attention was a negative factor for him these days.

But he would need to tread cautiously with Marian Craig. After all, the Agency's relations with the British had strained in recent months. As if the assassination of a British journalist in the middle of the Waterloo station by a CIA sniper wasn't enough, there was the whole debacle in Bolivia that really placed the last shovel of dirt on the grave. M would naturally be predisposed towards animosity against him; it was up to him to convert that animosity into professional regard and courtesy. And for that he would have to make a deal…if it worked, all would be well…if it didn't, there were always other ways he didn't want to even _think _about.

And then he noticed her enter the restaurant and mention his name to the headwaiter, the pseudonym he had informed her off. Within seconds, a waiter was escorting her to his table, and he stood up and greeted her.

Let the performance begin, he thought, as he gave her a wry smile.

* * *

"Ah! Good evening, Ms. Craig", Ezra Krammer greeted her; with a mild tone of enthusiasm she was convinced he did not feel. She noted the use of her real name, as opposed to 'M'; she sensed that Krammer was trying to subtly send her a message; that they were equals and the usual subterfuges she employed against her subordinates were of no use here. She wasn't in the least intimidated by this however, and instead replied in a polite but firm tone, "Good evening, Mr. Krammer".

"Please, have a seat", Krammer said gesturing towards her chair. She sat down. They did not shake hands.

"Well, Ms. Craig, before I begin, perhaps its best if we order some refreshments first", he said. M agreed, and before long they had ordered not only their refreshments, but their appetizers as well.

"Now, if you would care to inform me of the reason for this rather abrupt…rendevouz", M said.

"Certainly, I was about to. Ms. Craig, I'm going to be frank. You are no doubt aware, that the Agency is currently facing several…difficulties, on the domestic front. Events which was seriously hampered our ability to function uninhibited", Krammer began.

"If you are referring to the exposure of your unsanctioned assassination program, then I am quite aware of your…difficulties, and I have no hesitation in stating that I feel they are entirely justified", M said severely.

"If you want to put it that way, Ms. Craig, I can't honestly blame you. After all, the activities of this…program…did affect your country", Krammer replied cautiously.

"I completely admit that in recent years, several of our Agency's highest ranking executives have seen fit to embark on courses of action which have been questionable at best, if not downright unethical, and I have personally made several attempts these past few months to ensure that such activities are scrutinized, and where possible, curtailed immediately. It is precisely in relation to this that I have a request to make…and an offer", Krammer said.

M was silent for a few moments. "Go on", she then said.

"I have discovered evidence of a number of subversive activities some of our Agency's more…misguided…representatives have carried out on British soil. The existence of the records of these activities are unknown, save to myself, a few others, and as of a moment ago, you. They are the only…and I must stress on this word…_only _records of these activities, which have often been suspected by MI5 and your division, but never conclusively proven. And I alone have complete access to these records", Krammer said, and then paused, waiting for M's reaction.

M now had an inkling of the direction in which this conversation was heading. "So quite simply…you are offering me exclusive information about illegal activities carried out by the CIA on British soil, for a price…"

"Oh, not a price, Ms. Craig", Krammer said with a smile. "Just a favor".

"Indeed", replied M, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "And what would this favor be?"

Krammer took a deep breath and replied, "Are you familiar with the name, Jason Bourne?"

Whatever M had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this. "Jason Bourne? Yes, of course. There was an article on him in _The Guardian _earlier this year? Isn't he one of your loose cannons?"

The smile vanished from Krammer's face. "Now, Ms. Craig. I certainly wouldn't speak about 'loose cannons' if I were you. Need I remind you that it was _your _man who stormed into an African embassy and killed an unarmed man in front of numerous witnesses".

"As opposed to what, gunning down a journalist in the middle of a crowded train station?" M replied sharply.

"Look, that was a mistake, and the people responsible are in the dock. Which is more than what I can say for your man, Bond, who later went on to cause more trouble in Bolivia. But that's the past. What I'm more interested in is the future", Krammer replied calmly.

"And the future is…?" began M.

"I want you to find Jason Bourne. And kill him".

There was a minutes silence at the table. Neither spoke a word. Both their expressionless faces conveyed no emotion.

Finally, it was M who broke the silence. "And why would you need _my _help for that? Don't you have enough accomplished hitmen of your own to do your dirty work for you?" she asked sarcastically.

Krammer ignored the sarcasm. "As you are no doubt aware, my… 'hitmen', as you call them, are currently out of sanction, in custody of various psychiatric centers across the globe where they are undergoing rehabilitation so intense, that when our doctors are finished with them, they will never want to _hold _a gun again, much less use one. And our operatives have tried and failed to terminate Bourne for years. You see, he _was _the best we had. Until he snapped and went rogue. Now he's a serious liability, not only to the Agency, but to the entire world. There's no telling what he'll do, and where he'll do it. He's a freaking animal, and the world is his jungle. He thinks he can do anything he likes and no one can stop him. Which is why we need to take him out".

M paused for a few moments. "And if I agree to this…proposal of yours…"

"Then lets just say, those files will no longer be figments of your imagination", Krammer completed the sentence.

M sat in silence for a few more minutes before she replied sharply, "You realize of course, that what you are asking me to do is quite illegal".

"Oh, come now, Ms. Craig. Its not as though we at Langley are the only killers in this business. MI6 has a fair share of blood on his hands as well. We call our men 'wet-work specialists', you call them 'Double O's'. Its all the same really. We do it for Uncle Sam, you do it for Queen and country. So think about it, and let me know. You have the number don't you?", Krammer finished.

Just then, their drinks arrived, along with their appetizers, and the two Intelligence chiefs ate in silence. Finally M spoke, "I'll let you know my answer in two days time. We can carry out our further negotiations on this matter then".

"As you wish, Ms. Craig", Krammer said, with a new note of triumph entering his voice. "As you wish".


	2. Chapter 1: Target Jason Bourne

**Conflict of Legends**

**Chapter 1: Target-Jason Bourne**

It was early afternoon in London, when James Bond drove his Aston Martin DB5 into MI6's underground parking lot, and then took the elevator up to the topmost floor of the MI6 Headquarters at Vauxhall Cross, where the personal suite of M was situated.

"Morning, Moneypenny", Bond said with a smile as he strode into the ante-chamber outside M's office.

"Good morning, 007", Miss Moneypenny replied. She was M's new personal secretary, as of two months ago, a replacement for Villiers. Bond personally found her to be a far more efficient and friendly secretary than her predecessor, though he knew that the real reason he had taken a liking to her was her attractiveness. Nevertheless, Moneypenny continued to remain fairly cold and reserved in her attitude towards him, which was slightly discouraging, though he was sure that before long, he would have her eating out of his hand like any other woman with her looks would.

"M is expecting me", he explained.

"Yes, she did have an appointment scheduled for now", Moneypenny replied, checking her computer screen. "You can go in now".

"Thank you", Bond replied as he entered M's suite.

Within minutes, he was seated opposite M in one of the two luxurious leather armchairs facing her desk, sipping out of the glass of iced Bourbon she had offered him. He was greatly intrigued to know why M had suddenly summoned him from Jamaica, where he had been enjoying his fortnight long vacation. He wondered if it had anything to do with Quantum. Ever since he had successfully brought in Yusef Ibira, without killing him, M's respect for him had greatly increased. She had promised to offer him, before long, another assignment involving Quantum, committed as he was, to destroying it. So far, none had come up.

"I have a very…crucial…assignment for you, 007. And since 002 is already involved in an undercover operation in Tokyo, 008 is in hospital, and the whereabouts of 003 and 005 are unknown, you were my only option", M explained.

"So it isn't Quantum then", Bond said, surmising as much, since if it had been, then he would have been M's first choice.

"No. It is a completely different matter. An assassination", she said coldly. And Bond understood. He recognized that tone in her voice. It was the same tone she had used not very long ago, when she had ordered him to kill the traitorous MI6 section chief, Dryden, one of the two kills that earned him his Double O number.

"Who is the target?" he asked calmly.

"This man", she said handing him a dossier. Bond opened it and studied the photograph attached to the first page.

"His name is David Webb. But for years, he has been known by his operational name: Jason Bourne", M explained.

Bond studied the photograph, of a fair-skinned American man in his early thirties, with close-cropped brown hair cut in a distinctly military style. It was a pretty commonplace face, and yet there seemed to be a certain hidden menace in it.

"Who is he?" Bond asked.

"A rogue CIA operative, connected to an assassination program currently called Blackbriar", M replied

"The Blackbriar scandal", Bond said. "Does this have anything to do with that?"

"According to a …high ranking source within the CIA…Bourne was involved since the beginning. He has allegedly been involved in a number of assassinations, including the death of the Moscow MP, Vladimir Neski", M said

"Neski?" Bond asked surprised. "Murder-suicide in a Berlin hotel suite. I thought his wife killed him".

"No. Apparently it was orchestrated by Bourne. Bourne was also involved in the attempted assassination of former Nigerian dictator, Nykwama Wombosi", M explained.

"Heard about that one as well. But since Bourne was a CIA operative, doesn't this mean that all those hits were sanctioned by Langley?" Bond asked.

"Well, the CIA would have us believe that these killings were ordered by…misguided individuals within their organization acting against their policy…which is true enough though the fact remains the such individuals are the ones who currently control the Agency", M replied. "In any case, Jason Bourne is undoubtedly a danger not only to the CIA, but to the entire international intelligence community. He is believed to be delusional and suffering from homicidal tendencies. The Blackbriar operation apparently programmed its agents using an experimental 'behavior modification' procedure, which had by and large been successful. In Bourne's case however, it may have eventually led to a complete psychological breakdown, resulting in his current violently agitated and psychopathic state. A man with no control over his mind or actions, but with the best training in black operations the CIA can provide".

"A dangerous man" Bond muttered.

"_You _should talk", M said dryly, giving him a meaningful glance. Bond got the message.

"So your plan is to send…one dangerous man, to kill another?" Bond asked, staring into her eyes.

M stared into his cold blue-grey eyes for a few seconds without being the least affected by his glance. "Yes, that was my plan", she said plainly. "Any questions?"

Bond did have one question which he so desperately needed to ask M. "Why are you doing this? I never thought the day would come when we would be doing Langley's dirty work".

M stared at him in silence for a few seconds. When she spoke again, a more serious expression had descended upon her face. "My…contact…has informed me of the _possible _existence of certain records which detail the true extent of subversive activities carried out by operatives of the Blackbriar program in Britain. It is his contention, that if we were to accede to his request with regards to Jason Bourne, he would…take steps to ensure that the existence of those records is confirmed, at which point, we can demand access to them".

There was a moment's silence. Bond understood _exactly _what M meant, though he also knew that she would deny it vehemently if he spelled out exactly what it meant. For a moment, the thought that the CIA would be using the Service, would be using _him _as a contract killer for their own dirty work sickened him. But then he realized that she undoubtedly had her reasons for agreeing to this. After all, the world of espionage and counter-espionage wasn't as clean as the governments that funded intelligence organizations would like to believe. One had to make compromises…deals with the devil…as long as the overall objective was ethical and was met.

M seemed to have almost read Bond's thoughts, for she said, calmly and in a more gentle tone, "Bond, I know how you feel about this. But I need you to know that sometimes, one has to make compromises. Over the last couple of years, there have been a number of unexplained incidences on British soil; incidences in which we have long suspected our 'friends' in Langley have had a hand. And now, with recent revelations, out worst fears have been confirmed. We need to know now exactly to what extent our closest allies were involved in subversive activities in our territory. We need to know how much we can trust the Americans…and how much we need to keep them in the dark. A journalist was gunned down publicly in a train station. We need to know why?"

"Yes, I understand", Bond said. "Just one more thing. Since the CIA is asking us for help, it stands to reason that they themselves have been unsuccessful in finding and terminating Bourne. So how am I to find him? Are there any leads?"

"Details of his last confirmed locations. He was missing, presumed dead, in New York, seven months ago, but the CIA have since confirmed sightings of him in Argentina, Brazil, Lebanon, Iran and Pakistan. It is their belief however, that Bourne will eventually make his way back to Europe, his old 'stomping-grounds' at it were. You will have a complete list of all the places he has visited and operated in, including the locations of several of his old contacts. He's a master at the art of disappearing of the grid, but sooner or later, given time, he can be found. The problem is the termination. It will have to swift and before he suspects anything. Besting him in unarmed combat will be near impossible. Even for you. So don't try any heroics, 007. If you can poison his morning cup of coffee, or get a clear shot at his head with a sniper rifle, go for it", M instructed him.

"Of course", Bond said as he stood up, taking the dossier with him.

"And one other thing. The details of this operation are to be revealed on a need-to-know basis only. And there must be no mention _whatsoever_ of a CIA connection. My contact was particularly insistent on that point. Understand?" M asked.

"Perfectly", Bond replied.

"Good luck", M said.

"Thank you", Bond said as he walked out of the suite.


	3. Chapter 2: Graveside Conversation

**Conflict of Legends**

**Chapter 2: Graveside Conversation**

Jason Bourne stood staring at the tombstone. He was standing in a cemetery on the outskirts of Hanover, in Germany, but his mind was in the past.

"_Jason, don't do this! I don't want you to do this!" _she had pleaded.

"_Marie, I told them what would happen if they didn't leave us alone"_, he had argued.

"_It's never going to be over like this"_, she had insisted.

"_We don't have a choice"_, he countered.

"_Yes you do"_

It was the last thing she ever said. To him or to anyone else, before a bullet penetrated her skull and ended her life. That he had a choice.

But she was wrong. He _didn't _have a choice. Not then, anyway. He had a choice later, and he took it. He made a decision when he spared the life of Albert Hirsch in a room in a building in New York City, just as he had made a decision years before that, in that very room; only _this _time, he knew, or at least hoped, that is the right decision.

He had chosen to abandon the manipulators and masterminds behind Blackbriar to the American justice system, and hoped that it would be fair. There were reasonable men and women in Washington, honest, ethical people who would not stand for the atrocities Hirsch and his colleagues had committed in the name of America's security. Or at least he hoped there were. The news of the Blackbriar scandal had, in any case, spread far and wide. He kept track of the news, keeping tabs on the latest developments, which constantly staying on the move. He was officially declared missing, presumed dead, but he was certain that the CIA knew better and that even now, there were those still loyal to the cause of Blackbriar who would be looking for him. And hence, he continued to run. From the US to Canada, then back to the US again, and then South America, the Middle East and finally, when he felt sufficient time had passed, Europe. It was easy. He still had plenty of money left over from the stash he'd found years ago in Zurich, and he had also rediscovered additional sources of funds. He remembered other accounts he's set up in various cities, accounts which Conklin and Abbott knew nothing about and hence which would still be accessible. Accounts in Munich, Amsterdam and Rome, filled with money secretly and steadily siphoned off the quarterly Treadstone allocations. He didn't remember why he did it. Had he been planning, even then, to disappear, to quit the dark profession he had chosen? Or were they merely back-ups in case he was ever deemed useless to the Agency? He didn't know and he didn't care. He accessed the accounts and took the money. With the money, other requirements were easily fulfilled, namely refuge, transportation, weapons and false papers.

He had decided to come here to Hanover, to Marie's birthplace and her final resting place. He somehow felt he had to. He was unable to attend her funeral; it would have been too risky, but he thought it was safe enough to make a quick trip now.

He still felt guilty for her death. Guilty for all she'd been through since that fateful day she'd met him. It was not that she'd had no choice…he had given her the option to fade away, to disappear with his money…and then, when he found her, to see if she was alright, she insisted he stay with her. For love? Protection? He didn't know at the time. Presumably both.

For a little over two years they had lived together secretly, traveling around the world. They lived in Mykonos first, and then Vienna, then Amsterdam, Barcelona, St. Petersburg, and moving east to Beirut, Baghdad, a brief stay in Kabul cut short by violence, and finally Goa, India. They stayed there the longest. She was happy there. For the first time, she felt safe and secure. And so did he. Until he spotted the Russian. That was when all hell broke loose. Marie was killed and he was forced back into a world he loathed.

"Bourne?" a voice called out to him suddenly from a short distance, breaking into his thoughts. Suddenly, instinctively, his hand reached for the Sig Sauer concealed in his jacket. He turned around, gun halfway out, and stopped when he saw who it was.

It was Marie's step-brother. Martin Kreutz. The young man, whom Bourne had last met months ago in Paris, was staring at him almost in disbelief.

"Martin", Bourne muttered, acknowledging the younger man's presence.

"What are you doing here?" Martin asked, though he undoubtedly knew the question was rhetorical. Bourne answered it anyway, "I came here to see her".

Bourne knew that Martin held him responsible for Marie's death. He had never particularly approved of his sister's relationship with a former assassin to begin with.

However, Martin no longer seemed to be in an accusatory or confrontational mood. He instead calmly said, "The last time we met, you said something about finding the people who started all of this. Did you find them?"

"Yes", Bourne replied.

"Did you kill them?" Martin asked.

Bourne hesitated for a moment before answering, "No. But they will be brought to justice".

"Justice?" Martin gave a short laugh. "What do you American's know about justice?"

"Adolf Hitler didn't know anything about justice either. And we all know which country _he _came from", said Bourne.

Martin opened his mouth to argue, but Bourne cut him off, "I don't mean to get into politics or country-bashing in any case. What I'm trying to say is that every country has its rotten seeds? I just got hoodwinked by the ones in mine".

"Hoodwinked?" Martin said. "Is that why you spent years killing?"

"Yes", Bourne said softly. "They had convinced me I was saving American lives. But I know now that they themselves were _taking _American lives".

For a few moments, the two men stood in silence. Then Martin spoke, "And what now? Where will you go?"

"I don't know", Bourne replied honestly.

"They're still looking for you?" Martin asked.

"They might be. I think they have troubles of their own now, but still, it's always a possibility", Bourne admitted.

Martin darted several nervous glances around, as though he was suddenly expecting assailants hidden in the vicinity to suddenly emerge and attack Bourne, with him caught in the crossfire.

"You better go now", he said, unconsciously conveying some of his nervousness.

"Yes", Bourne agreed, sensing his unease. He turned around and slowly walked away.


	4. Chapter 3: Fruitless Searches

**Conflict of Legends**

**Chapter 3: Fruitless Searches**

A weary, frustrated and greatly disappointed James Bond emerged from a bar one evening in Moscow. It had been three days since his briefing with M; three days that had been consumed in utterly fruitless search efforts. In the end, he was forced to admit to himself that he was no closer to finding Jason Bourne than he had been when he first laid eyes on the photograph in the dossier.

He had spent most of the day tracking down a particularly elusive old contact of Bourne's in Moscow. Bourne had been to Moscow earlier in the year, and Bond believed that he might find something there. After spending most of the day tracking the contact, Bond found him in a bar in a rundown section of the city.

He had bought the contact, a bearded heavy-set and short man, a glass of vodka, had placed fifty rubles in his hands, and had asked him in Russian, "I need some information about a Jason Bourne".

The name seemed to be completely meaningless to the contact. Bond however was not easily discouraged. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of the many photographs of Bourne available to MI6 whose copies he'd obtained before leaving London. "Do you recognize this man?" he asked.

The contact stared at the photograph for a few moments, before recognition slowly dawned on his face, "Yes, yes. I know that man. That is _gospadin _Kineav".

"Kineav ?" Bond asked, puzzled, but then he remembered that Foma Kineav was one of Bourne's aliases when he worked for the CIA.

"This man, he once came to me. He speaks very good Russian, but I thought he was an American", the contact said.

"Go on", urged Bond, pressing a further fifty rubles into the man's palm. Thus encouraged, the man continued, "He wanted me to provide information about the residence of Boris Krichenkov".

"And who would this Krichenkov be?" Bond asked casually.

"A very important man in the drug empires. That was all I knew. But he somehow knew that I knew something else. I knew where he lived, something few others knew, and fewer still would be willing to tell, even for a price. But _gospadin _Kineav was willing to pay a high price", the man paused and took a sip from his glass of vodka.

"He paid me one thousand rubles, in cash. I told him where Krichenkov was", the man said.

"And where can I find this Krichenkov?" Bond asked, feeling he was getting somewhere.

"In the cemetery, _gospadin_. He is dead. He was stabbed to death in his sleep two nights later. The police never found his killer. Most people think it was one of his rivals in the empires", the man said.

But Bond knew better, as he suspected the contact did, although he would never admit it. So, Bourne had killed a high-ranking Moscow drug-dealer. Perhaps, this bit of information could lead some where. He decided to probe further.

Casually slipping the contact a further fifty rubles, Bond asked, "When was this?"

"Oh, about three to four years ago, I think", the contact replied.

At that moment, a sense of intense disappointment mingled with sheer frustration overwhelmed Bond. _Four years ago_…four years ago, Bourne was still in the employ of the CIA; what he did then had no bearing on the search for the fugitive psychopathic killer Bond was seeking now.

"And you have not seen him since?" Bond asked, hopefully.

"No", the contact replied.

"Didn't you know he was in Moscow earlier this year…he was involved in an accident in an auto tunnel?" Bond asked.

"That was him? No, I did not know he was involved in the accident", the contact said.

And so a disappointed and frustrated Bond made his way out of the bar. It had been more or less the same story in Paris and Berlin, two other noteworthy locations from Bourne's recent and distant past. He had run into several contacts of Bourne's in Paris, all of whom knew him by various aliases, usually either 'Nicholas Lemanissier' or 'John Michael Kane'. None of them had seen him recently. He had seen the apartment where Bourne used to live when he worked for the Agency; there was nothing noteworthy there.

Berlin was even less promising. There were no old contacts of Bourne's to dig up there. The Berlin police did remember the American fugitive and CIA priority target whom they had hunted in the city earlier that year, and who had subsequently escaped, but they weren't much help. Bond was interested to know that Bourne had broken into the Breckner Hotel when he had visited the city; the same location where he had, as per M's information, supposedly assassinated Vladimir Neski years before. Why had the murderer returned to the scene of the crime? There was neither rhyme nor reason for it. Bond seriously began to wonder if Bourne was truly insane…

One thing was clear. Nothing was to be found in the past. Bourne's past. He had not approached a single contact of his, neither in the three cities Bond had covered extensively, nor in any of the other dozen European cities various MI6 undercover agents were covering at that very moment. Perhaps, he was being cautious…after all, he would have known that any or all of these contacts could conceivably be on the CIA radar. Or perhaps another vague theory about Bourne propounded by the CIA was true: that he suffered from amnesia. In which case, even _he _was unaware of the existence of those contacts.

But Bond was positive that it was only a matter of time before he was found: after all, even a man like him couldn't stay off the radar indefinitely; the operation MI6 had launched against him, which _Bond _had launched against him, was far larger than any the CIA had ever attempted; train stations, airports, roads and border exits across Europe were being watched, his description radioed to every MI6 station in the continent; the cities he had known to have been in before had been put on high alert. The moment Bourne surfaced he would be put under a surveillance so airtight that even he would never be able to escape it. Bond would be informed immediately; he would fly to that location at once; weapons, high-powered long-distance sniper rifles would be made available to him; and he would take out Bourne from a distance. Photographs of the corpse would be taken, photographs which would be relayed to M's unknown contact in the CIA, and in return, access to classified documents that implicated CIA officials in subversive activities on British soil would be given to MI6.

It was a cold, unethical deal and yet one to which there was no alternative. The killing of the reporter Simon Ross at the Waterloo station had been the subject of a national outrage and had severely embarrassed all divisions of the British security services. The truth _had _to be known; proven conclusively. And if the price to be paid was the life of a cold-blooded psychopathic killer, then so be it. For all he knew, Bourne himself could have been involved in Ross's death; according to eyewitnesses, he certainly had been present in the vicinity at the time; his sudden disappearance in New York occurring mere days later.

Bond's thoughts were flowing along these lines when his cellphone suddenly rang. He checked the contact's name on the screen; it was the MI6 station chief in Amsterdam. He answered the call. "Bond here", he said. "007, this is Chambers. We have reason to believe our subject passed through Amsterdam a little over two days ago", the station chief said. "Amsterdam? Why? How?" Bond asked, surprised.

"He contacted a forger in the city, actually one of our undercover moles. He wanted travel documents for Germany", replied Chambers. "Germany? He's in Germany?" Bond exclaimed, surprised. "Yes, we have reports that he purchased a second-hand car in Rotterdam. We circulated the name on his passport, along with his photographs to all the border exits to Germany. He crossed over into Essen barely a day later. We've alerted the German station".

"Good work, Chambers. I'll fly down to Berlin right away. But what is he _doing _in Germany? That's what I want to know", Bond replied before ending the call.

So, the elusive Jason Bourne had surfaced, as they'd known he would, sooner or later. But Germany? Why would Bourne head there specifically? Obviously, given the fact that he'd been in the city earlier in the year, it was obviously one of the first places anyone would look for him. Why pick such an obvious place to hide? Unless he was not there to hide, but had some specific objective in mind. But what was there for Bourne in Germany?

And then in a flash, Bond recalled something he'd read in Bourne's dossier. Bourne had had a lover, a German woman named Marie Helena Kreutz, who'd been killed in India by a Russian mercenary named Kirill. Could his sudden excursion to Germany have anything to do with her? Marie had relatives in Germany; she'd been born near Hanover. She'd had a stepbrother, who lived in Paris, and with whom Bourne had had contact at least once before. Bond had wanted to visit the brother in Paris, but found that he was away. Could he possibly be in Hanover? If so, could Bourne also be heading towards Hanover? But why? And then a possibility entered Bond's mind…Marie Helena Kreutz's grave, could it be in Hanover? It was very likely. He would check up with the German station. Because then, it made sense that Bourne would go to Hanover.

Either way, Bourne was now in their sights. Their nets were tightening around him. It was only a matter of time now before Bond was able to find him and finish the job.

Yes, thought Bond, the hunt begins now…


End file.
